


Hunting Accident

by HostisHumaniGeneris



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Fight Sex, Fingering, Mind Manipulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Transformation, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-31 01:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19415335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HostisHumaniGeneris/pseuds/HostisHumaniGeneris
Summary: They got hired to rescue a woman kidnapped by a demon-worshipping cult, only to find out that they had use for her as something other than a sacrifice.  And unfortunately for Lady, the means they have to ensure the demons'enthusiasmstarts to affect Dante.





	Hunting Accident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Noceu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Noceu/gifts).



Women screaming mixed with the howls of demons, guns firing, steel meeting flesh and claw. The braziers’ dim light was momentarily amplified by dozens of muzzle flares, some flashes of magic from one or more of the cult’s acolytes. That odd, burning plant smell she took to be something like incense intermingled with cordite and freshly spilled blood.

Lady dodged a clawed swipe for her face, planting the barrel of one of her handguns underneath the thing’s reptilian jaw. Yellow eyes widened a split second before the muzzle flared and a piece of punched its way into the thing’s skull. Tough as it was the bullet to the brainpain just made it stagger back—the next dozen or so landing center mass did the trick. As it dropped she trained her handguns into the nearest creature—not dead but wounded enough for her to risk a reload.

Something _red_ moved in their way, and Lady lowered the gun. Dante bisected the thing with a slash of his massive sword, before taking a half step back to dodge the next one in line. Lady let him do it, while she headed for the cages; diving and rolling when one of the demons leapt, burying its claws into the floor. It snapped it’s head at her, looking at her hungrily. 

A point-blank shotgun blast erased that look.

Lady began picking the locks on the cages. These were simple hardware store padlocks, which went to how amateur hour this entire cult was—it was remarkable they had managed to even summon a few Blades. Normally she’d just shoot the lock off, but given the scared women in the cages, lockpicking seemed a better choice.

It was simple enough she managed to split her attention between the lock and the fracas—Dante was doing a good job, cleaving the head off a demon with Rebellion before spinning and double-tapping several cultists running down the stairs. She herself offhandedly put a bullet in a robed figure trying to sneak up on her, before pulling the first lock off.

It got rather quiet after that. Even Dante kept his mouth shut as she opened the cage door. “Hey Dante, is it safe?”

She had to repeat the question a few times, because he wasn’t paying attention. Odd, usually rescuing sacrifices from a demon worshipping cult got him into a self-aggrandizing mood. When he distractedly nodded and waved them off, Lady took that as a sign to tell the girls the route out of this cellar, a place to hole up while the professionals finished up here.

Still, as the young women, runaways and kidnap victims, including the woman they’d been hired to find, filtered out, something twisted in her. They were scratched and bruised, clearly having been subject to the Blades' attentions, but… against an unarmed, untrained young woman, a lowly but vicious demon would messily and quickly tear them apart.

Their clothes were in tatters, and they all looked like hell, with thousand yard stares, taking pains to keep away from the corpses of the demons on the floor. She couldn’t shake the reptilian smell, something musky intermingled with the reek of that incense or whatever. Something distracted her with a cough. Lady’s head whipped around, and she looked at the robed figure she shot, an old woman, feebly trying to grip that knife. “What did you do to girls?”

The old woman hacked and coughed in reply. Lady looked at the hole in her torso, pretty sure that, given the nearest E.R. was quite a ways away, and there was no way she or Dante was going to call for help, the woman didn’t have much time left. When Lady repeated the question, the old woman laughed. “Girls? The cattle, you mean.”

Lady responded by shooting the ground next to the woman’s leg. “Next one goes in your knee. What. Did. You. Do?”

The old woman smiled. “Handed them over to the demons.”

They were scratched up, but the Blades wouldn’t have left them alive if they were thrown in together. “Bullshit.”

“Oh, they weren’t _food_.” The woman laughed, and Lady’s guts twisted as she considered the evidence. The way their clothes were torn, thinking more on the specific places the tears were. That scent they had, those scratches and surface cuts.

The old woman deserved what happened to her knee, and howled loudly. Lady was about to shoot out the other when Dante stepped in close. “Did I ever tell you you’re cute when you’re angry?”

“Not now, Dante.” She snapped. He’d told her that before, usually after some blowout had led to makeup sex. But this was not the time.

“Hey, easy.” He said, conciliatory in tone. A hand placed on her shoulder squeezed her gently, then it drifted. She flinched when he cupped a breast, that familiar touch against her was completely unwelcome in this situation.

“Dante, have you been paying attention? This is _no time for that_.” She hissed, swatting his hand away. Even he usually had enough decorum to put the flirting off for at least a little while after interacting with something this fucked up. It only hit her _how_ unlike himself he was acting when, gazing at the hand that slapped his away, he scowled and shoved her against the wall. “What the fuck?”

“That boy…” The old woman on the floor wheezed. “…been breathing pretty heavily since he got down here, right? He ain’t just a human now, is he? Can tell given his interest. But hm… maybe he’d have better luck breeding with a human.”

Lady inhaled, smelling the mix of burnt powder and blood, and that insistent smell of the incense, or whatever, had been burning in those braziers. Dante’s eyes were twitchy, wide, and the pupils were pinpoint even in this dim light. She opened her mouth to tell him to stop, when he moved in for a kiss, holding her in an iron grip. She muttered a protest that was muffled by his tongue, trying to buck out of his grip, fruitlessly. He was strong. Too strong.

He pulled his head back, grinning again. “C’mon, I know how much a fight like this puts you in the mood.”

“Later, Dante. When this is done, you and I can…” She said, slowly, trying to best choose her words. Dante was not one for delayed gratification in the first place, and like _this_ , she needed to be careful. “…When this is all done, maybe we can see if…”

Dante’s response was to remove one hand from her shoulder, grip the front of her shirt and tear, buttons flying, while the cultist laughed. Wasn’t any reasoning with him now, only one thing would satisfy him. Lady had resumed trying to thrash free when his hand left his shoulder. He pinned her against the wall with his body, kissing at the exposed flesh of her collarbone and neck, growling. 

She kneed him in the crotch.

They weren’t doing this here, not in a dungeon where the cult had been trying to mate demons with their captives. Not with Dante drugged out of his mind and that fucking cultist laughing. The knee made him let her go stagger back, she used the opportunity to slip away from the wall and creat some distance. Dante was _pissed_ when he recovered and glared, staring down the barrels of her guns. “Dante, I don’t want to do this.”

“Do what?” He growled.

“Hurt you, or fuck you. Just calm down, and…”

She was on the backfoot immediately as he charged, the guns punching holes that would close. She dove out of the way of a superhuman fist—he wasn’t using Rebellion, not that she’d be okay if he punched her with that amount of force. They’d sparred a few times, something like foreplay for them—but even then it was obvious Dante had a clear edge, if that encounter in Temen-Ni-Gru’s library didn’t make that clear.

Still, she was not going down without a fight.

She ducked and dodged, narrowly avoiding punches. She holstered her pistols and drew her shotgun, but it was batted out of her hand, clattering to the ground. She staggered when blocking a powerful punch, then doubled over when a palmstrike knocked the wind out of her when it slipped under her guard. As she tried to catch her breath, a strong hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled, forcing her to lean backwards as he groped and kissed her.

She wriggled, then nailed him in the face with a headbutt. He let her go more out of amusement than anything, she thought, as he released her and created some distance, fists up, bouncing on his feet like a prizefighter at the top of the first round. She stumbled, trying to catch her breath, leaning heavily. At her feet, the old crone managed to sit up halfway, before falling back to the stone floor, laugh-coughing the whole way.

Dante was a cocky bastard, always was. And now he was cocky and not in his right mind, so as he stalked her, he didn’t seem to notice her fiddling with the strap on her shoulder, the one around Kalina Ann. As he leapt, she whipped the rocket launcher around, planting it forward, barrel and bayonet towards him.

The good news was, Dante being Dante, the bayonet through him, right under the ribs on the left, wasn’t fatal. She hadn’t just killed her partner who was clearly not acting himself. The bad news was that, stuck as he was, Dante gave her a wide, bloody grin, grabbed her neck with both hands, and pulled her in for another kiss.

She punched him a few times in the chest, right next to the bayonet wound. It got him to release her, then shove. The best she could say for herself was she kept a grip on her weapon, as she landed on the stone floor hard and bounced. Getting up, she shouldered Kalina Ann.

“Careful.” He chided. “You could hurt someone with…”

The explosion _obliterated_ the cultist, Lady was sure. Dante couldn’t be dead, but had to be hurt, maybe it would snap him out. If not, she would at least have time to catch her breath.

That was what was going through her head when something red and smoldering leapt, pinning her to the ground.

“You’ve been a bad girl, Lady.” A hand around her throat held her down, while another groped her chest, squeezing far more roughly than he’d ever had before. She kicked her legs, trying to free herself while Dante rolled his thumb over her nipple, before pinching it and ordering “Stay still.”

That just made her thrash harder, claw at his face. Frustrated, Dante shifted, getting off of her just enough to grab and arm and _wrench_ , pinning it behind her back and forcing her to the floor, facedown. “Enough foreplay? Good. I was getting impatient, too.

He grabbed the waistband of her shorts and tugged, the leather easily yielding. Very soon, her panties followed. A hand ran against her ass, squeezing and pinching. She continued to thrash and kick, crying out when Dante slapped her ass, _hard_. She went very still when a glob of something wet dripped down between her her ass cheeks, right on the hole. Spit. “Dante…”

That earned her another slap. “You have a very fuckable ass, Lady.”

She’d _never_ done this before, Dante never pressed after being shut down, and if she didn’t want anal normally, she sure as shit didn’t want it when Dante was fucking insane, the only lubricant she was getting was spit, and _Dante was fucking insane_. When he let of her arm to grab onto both of her hips, painfully, she said, with as much of a commanding tone as she could, “Stop.”

“You made me kick your ass. So I think it’s fair I get to fuck it.” He entered her roughly, without any hint of warning. She clawed the stone floor and yelled, as his grip tightened against her as he forced more and more of himself in. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

It hurt. 

Dante was big and usually, even if he felt like being a little rough and frenzied, they’d have a lot of foreplay and he was very eager to please—her dazed from sex was even cuter than her angry, he’d say. He was good at making her feel good. But now, he was mad, both crazy and angry, and selfish. He muttered how hard it was to get in deeper, while pulling on her hips while shoving in. She cried out through gritted teeth when he was all in. He slid out, maybe half way, before slamming back in, faster than before.

The pace he picked was relentless, and he fucked her into the ground while muttering about how good she felt. She had to fucking love this, right, he asked as he bit into her shoulder, looping his arms around while ramming in. 

For her part she tried to stifle it all. She had a high pain tolerance, and this was an entirely new sort of hurt, but she’d climbed a fucking tower after being stabbed through the thigh. She had the scars of years of demon hunting. _This_ was not her limit.

There wasn’t anything to do except wait. Dante would come, and then they’d figure it out. “God, I want to keep this up forever.”

Lady killed that thought the second she’d had it. Whatever was burning that scent in the air that drove the demons, and half-demons, wild, _had_ to wear off. Had to. The thought it wouldn’t was ridiculous. As was the thought of her kept in a cage for Dante’s amusement when things didn’t wear off.

A finger against her clit distracted her. “You’ve calmed down a little. Aren’t thrashing as much. Ready to be a good Lady?”

She nodded, almost unconsciously. It felt sick to her stomach, but this was a good sign, right? Dante was putting effort into pleasuring her. Maybe he was doing to come out of it sooner rather than later. The work with his fingers was not nearly his best, but it was something other than a cock up her ass. Just had to wait things out.

“I’ve been thinking…” Dante announced. “We’ve never done it when I’m, you know.”

She shuddered. Like anal, it was something he’d suggested one time. Fucking her in demon form—he said it would be interesting.

“I think it’ll be fun.” She shook her head. His grip around her waist tightened. “You’ll love it, I’m sure.”

And with that, she screamed to high heaven. Skin against hers hardened and roughened, an unnatural tingle ran up and down her spine. And he was bigger. So much, so suddenly, there was no preparation or announcement. Blink of an eye and now he was so much _more_. He kept still for a brief moment after the transformation, letting her get used to him, she thought. Or maybe just savoring her scream. There was heat and electricity and every nerve was trying to react in different ways to the inhumanity inside and around her. Something prodded between her legs, and she looked down.

He was still buried inside her, so the thing poking at he snatch couldn't be his cock. Even if, studded and ridged like it was, it looked like one. Even if it throbbed in time with the thing buried inside her. Even if the tip was dripping something slick. Eventually, as he lined the head of it up with her snatch, it cut through her denial. He had two of them like this?

Then he started thrusting again, burying both cocks to the hilt..

Things got blurry after that. It hurt, of course, but something intermingled with it, the vast unholiness of it all. She could swear she was stretched past her limits but that wasn't stopping him from driving in, or her from groaning. Demonic hands grasped and groped and pinched and scratched. Something inside her was hitting every nerve when he thrusted, electricity running to her core. She did throw her head against him, over her shoulder and wailed. Pleasure or pain or both?

Claws met skin painfully, and kisses turned to nips turned to bites that drew blood. Limbs dangled without purchase when black wings flapped and they rose, inches away from the ceiling. She struggled, but it was even less effective than before--he wsa stronger and she was banged up. A tongue lapped at the bloody toothmarks on her shoulder, a demonic voice muttered an "I love you.". She was held tight enough to have difficulty breathing, and every time he slammed into her or his fingers strokes someplace he _knew_ would get a reaction, the wind was knocked out of her.

Pleasure or pain or both?

It didn’t matter, because she screamed all the same.

* * *

She woke up, staring at a familiar cracked ceiling. She tried to sit up, before sinking back down to the mattress, groaning. Tossing the blanket laid over her aside, she looked between her legs, bruised and raw, tender when she felt, and sore as fuck, but nothing torn. When she pulled her fingers away, there wasn't blood, which she took as a good sign. Out the corner of her eye, she saw _him,_ slumped in a chair, head back, breathing slow. The alarm clock—which was on the end table but had never been wound, bounced off his stomach, snapping him awake.

“You’re awake.” He sounded horrified, looked horrified. _Good_ a part of her thought. He wasn’t himself, she tried to tell herself, but there had been enough of him that she could be mad at him for what he had done.

But the shock and horror on his face was also new, and proof the drug or smoke or whatever had well and truly run its course. 

“Yeah. ‘M awake.” She sat up all the way this time, and twisted to plant her feet on the floor. It felt like every bit of her was protesting this, but she could take it. After last night—sun was out, so unless it was longer than a night—she probably could take anything else thrown her way. “Where are the girls?”

“Safe. After… I got them to town, to the police, got them all.”

“Mission accomplished. Hm.” Blasé. She did not want to project weakness to Dante, or trauma to Dante, or concern for Dante’s own reaction to last night. Because she was still trying to figure that all out herself.

“Listen, about last night…” He shut up when she got on her feet. “I…”

“Neither of us is good with words.” Lady looked to see Dante had laid out a fresh set of clothes for her on the foot of the opposite side of the bed. Dressing, she asked. “What about the cult?”

“Figure we got most of them.” He wasn't looking at her. She couldn't remember him ever _not_ looking at her when he had the chance.

“Most?” Her tone conveyed it all. Most wasn’t good enough. Not after everything they did to those women. Not after everything Dante had done to her.

“There may be stragglers—people who were looking for more victims, people who got out when we assaulted the place.” Dante said. “I managed to find a membership list there. If you want, I…”

“Not ‘you’, ‘we’.” We was for the best. She couldn’t just send Dante after them. And she couldn’t just go herself, because even if she said that’s what she wanted, he would follow. And like it or not, she was in _rough shape_ , and to hunt down the cult, she'd need help. And at that point, she had no choice but to trust Dante. “We are going back, tracking the rest of them down, and making sure they never pull this shit again.”

Maybe she could sort out what ‘we’ meant after they got it done.

**Author's Note:**

> To the requestor, you had some fun prompts. Hopefully I did this one justice!


End file.
